Giving Cleaning a Whole New Meaning
by Skoila
Summary: The kitchen mud is sick of her life of being left behind, and she's looking for something new. Based off of the Swiffer Adverts.


Disclaimer: I do not own the Swiffer Adverts, or any of the characters. No money will be made from this story.

"Why do you keep going back to him?"

"I…I don't really know—I to make a new start with someone different, but he's all I know. Everyone else I've ever been with has just left me. He's always here for me…"

"Well, where is he now? He's off with some piece of filth. He might be there when you rebound, but you forget why you were trying to leave him in the first place. He's not good for you."

"He loves me though…"

"You're lying to yourself. The only reason he takes you back is because it's convenient for him, and you'll still be unhappy because nothing has changed. You need to figure out what you really want in life. I won't always be here for you. Mrs. Thompson brings the vacuum around every couple of days, and I'm sure it'll be my turn soon—you know how long I've been waiting for my chance."

The mud that was deeply ingrained between the small gap around and between the sections of linoleum tiling paused to consider this. After a few moments of silence she finally responded to the clump of dust and dog hair that was her best friend, her voice of reason. "You're right. I'm sick of being trodden on in this relationship. He doesn't respect me, he treats me like dirt, he sleeps around, and I'm sick of it all. First chance I get, I'll be gone. Someone new will come around and he will be perfect for me."

The front door rattled and opened as Mrs. Thompson came home from. The heels of her shoes clicked against the tile floor of the hallway before she entered the kitchen. There was a soft sigh of disgust as she saw that the dog had tracked mud throughout the house again.

She remarked to no one in particular, "As if I didn't have enough to do already, now I have to mop the kitchen as well."

Mrs. Thompson retrieved the mop and bucket from the laundry room, filled the large plastic container with water from the sink, and set the mop in to soak for a few minutes before she began mopping.

Gradually she made her way across the floor until she reached the edge where the mud covered the tiles by the carpet. The mop passed over the mud with a quick comment. "Hey baby, you up for a little friction today?"

The mud was quick to respond. "No, you and me—we're over." There was a brief pause as Mrs. Thompson scrubbed vigorously at the floor with little result. The mud felt the mop pressing himself harshly against her, but her complaints were muffled each time he passed over her mouth.

"This is not okay, I'm done with you screwing around on me. You come around here whenever you feel like it, you use me, and then you leave me behind. No more."

"But, baby—"

He was cut short as Mrs. Thompson threw him across the room in a fit of rage. She was tired of mopping and finding that her floors were just as dirty as when she began. She slipped a pair of shoes on and left the house quickly.

"This looks like it could really be your chance." The clump of dust and dog hair seemed almost overjoyed at the mop's falling out with Mrs. Thompson. "I can only imagine that she's gone to bring someone new back. I bet she's finally replacing that waste of space."

The mud and the clump of dust and dog hair continued to chat, ignoring the mop's piteous whining from the other side of the kitchen.

Mrs. Thompson returned almost an hour later with a long box held tightly in one hand, beginning to tear the packaging open as she stepped through the door. It wasn't long before the new mop had been removed from its shiny box and Mrs. Thompson was attaching the disposable pad to its base with an almost crazed fervor.

She began to clean the floor with the new mop, a pleased sigh slipping past her lips as it picked up the dirt that the older mop had merely spread around the kitchen.

The mud felt as if her entire body was tingling in anticipation. This mop seemed like he was different from all of the others that had come before him. She thought that he really might be the one to take her away.

She wasn't disappointed as he approached. A smooth voice called out to here, "You look like you could do with a bit of a pick-me-up, want to go for a ride with me? I'm The Swiffer, and I could really do with a companion. I can take you places you've never even imagined before—there're whole other worlds out there."

The mud nodded, reaching her hands out towards him. She was quickly swept up into his damp fibers. She held on tightly, with a slight moan as he wrapped himself around her. He whispered softly in her ear, "You're such a dirty girl aren't you, ready to jump up with any guy who'll take you."

She nodded shyly at his comment, as she pulled herself even more tightly into his fibers as if trying to join into one being with The Swiffer. _This is so much better than it ever was with the mop; he was never gentle with me—always too hard, only ever going after his own pleasure._

To the mud, it seemed that this was almost too good to be real. She had a nagging fear that The Swiffer would be like everyone before him and would leave her behind once he'd had his fun. She gasped at a moment of deliciously increased friction as Mrs. Thompson shifted the angle of the mop so that she could get the space under the table.

"You aren't going to leave me are you? You make me feel so much better than anyone else has in a long time, and if it's a lie I want to know now rather than later."

The Swiffer was quick to reassure her. "Don't worry. I'll never let you go."

It wasn't long before Mrs. Thompson had finished cleaning the floor. She removed the now filthy disposable pad from the bottom of the mop and walked it over to the trashcan. She pressed one foot down onto the pedal to lift the lid.

The mud was slightly nervous now, she had only ever been outside and in the kitchen in her life. "Swiffer what's happening, where are we going?"

He comforted her softly, "Don't worry, it's just the next chapter of our new lives together."

Mrs. Thompson let the dirtied cloth fall into the trash. She removed her foot from the pedal, leaving the pad and the mud together in the darkness, and smiled at a job well done.


End file.
